


Porcelain Puppet

by laramorgan000



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: and then this idea came to mind, and this thing that reminds me of a poem but isnt a poem came about, anyway!, but its not like anybody knows about them, english is his best subject after gym, hes not about to show them this nerdy stuff he write, i have a headcanon that jake likes to write, its stupid right?, jake feeling hopeless and comparing himself to a porcelain puppet!, oops may have just given myself another idea, so jake comes up with these metaphors, this seems to have become a theme in my rps, well i got some, you want some shitty jakey d angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21582292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laramorgan000/pseuds/laramorgan000
Summary: Porcelain dolls. Pretty, valuable, delicate.Puppets. Dolls on a string for everyone to control.Porcelain puppets. A combination of both. A pretty, valuable doll that everyone can play with. A pretty, valuable doll that’s easily broken.Sometimes, that’s what Jake felt like.And sure, maybe that was partially his fault but he needed people.
Relationships: Jake Dillinger/Chloe Valentine (mentioned), Jake Dillinger/Christine Canigula (mentioned)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Porcelain Puppet

Porcelain dolls. Pretty, valuable, delicate.

Puppets. Dolls on a string for everyone to control.

Porcelain puppets. A combination of both. A pretty, valuable doll that everyone can play with. A pretty, valuable doll that’s easily broken.

Sometimes, that’s what Jake felt like.

And sure, maybe that was partially his fault but he needed people.

Everyone liked him.

Most people liked him.

Most people looked up to him.

Everyone had their own version of him in their head.

And Jake felt like he had to live up to their expectations.

He never did any of this for them, not at first.

It was for his parents.

Maybe if they heard about everything he’d done, all his achievements, his grades.

Then maybe he’d be good enough for them.

Maybe they’ll come back for him.

(They weren’t coming back).

He hid away parts of himself.

(“God, why do you even have this?”

“Uh- I thought it was cool.”

“It’s dorky. Get rid of it.”

Chloe means well, she’s just rough around the edges.)

He joined every club he could.

Every team he could.

Got the best grades in all his classes.

Dated the hottest girl in school.

Dated other girls when he and Chloe broke up.

He was, in everyone’s mind, perfect.

No one saw the pressure he put himself under.

How little time he had for himself.

All work, no play.

(Who wants to be alone with your thoughts in a giant, empty house?)

Christine came along.

She was more real than anyone else he had met.

And she really liked him.

He liked her too.

So, he joined theatre.

He asked her out.

(Chloe got jealous. Chloe always got jealous).

He dropped some of his clubs for her.

Christine was a small relief from the pressure he placed upon himself.

Parties were also work for him.

Less stressful, but still work.

Gotta keep up appearances, gotta make sure everyone’s having a good time.

But, hey, he got to drink, he got to let loose for a while.

And then _that_ party happened.

No one died, thankfully.

He went back in for Rich.

He couldn’t leave his best friend to die in the fire.

He broke his legs.

But nobody seemed to care.

He was Jake fucking Dillinger.

Picture perfect, selfless hero, King of Middleborough.

Until the hype died down.

He was still Jake Dillinger.

Of course, he was.

Just

Not so perfect Jake Dillinger.

But he tried.

There was a smile on his face.

He still had his grades.

He had his clubs.

Maybe not sports.

Not until his legs were healed.

It was temporary.

No one saw how fake the smile was.

No one saw the cracks growing on the porcelain puppet.

Then the play happened.

He was walking again.

Somewhat.

He still had crutches.

But there was something weird in the beaker.

And he heard his parents.

Voices he hadn’t heard in so long.

His father stood before him.

Although, it wasn’t quite his father.

All he could hear was how much of a disappointment he was.

It hurt him.

But he wanted to make his parents proud.

He couldn’t control himself anyway.

Next thing he knew, he was back in the hospital.

Parentless.

And even more damaged legs.

Back in the wheelchair.

He could kiss his sports scholarship goodbye.

But he still had a smile.

(A fake smile, but who could tell the difference anymore?)

And other people had issues too.

Jake considered himself a good person.

So he helped them through their issues,

Neglecting his own.

It seemed people slowly forgot him.

The broken puppet with the tangled strings.

Discarded in the toybox.

That’s what it felt like.

Sitting alone in a small apartment.

Finally realising how broken he was,

How helpless he felt,

How hopeless he was.

But he still had his shaky painted smile.

And filled in the broken pieces with whatever he could find.

He couldn’t quite figure out how to fix himself.

He watched everyone go on,

While he was left behind.

Or dragged along.

Doing whatever the puppet master wanted.

Sometimes, Jake can’t see himself as anything else.

Just a broken porcelain puppet,

And everyone ignores the cracks.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I may have given myself an idea for a sequel. If y'all want it, then I might write it. I still have all my other fics to update.


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